


Walls

by slipsthrufingers



Category: Obernewtyn Chronicles - Isobelle Carmody
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:43:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slipsthrufingers/pseuds/slipsthrufingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew always disappointed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bliumchik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bliumchik/gifts).



Matthew had only just turned twelve, when he realised he was different. The snatches of conversations he heard from his parents, brief words, angry sometimes-- he had always brushed off as asides he was meant to ignore. His father often talked about him as though he were not there, such a disappointment he was, and Matthew never looked him in the eye to make sure. He learned that trick from his mother, who never even flinched when her husband whispered another woman’s name into the darkness.

It was the day he rode back from town on the family’s only horse. The beast slipped in a hole in the road and he, being unsteady and unused to riding such a big animal, was tossed in the air and landed with a crunch of pain against the hard root of the trees to the side. Freed from its rider, the horse had run away down the path and he lay against the roots of the trees for hours, leg broken and delirious with pain, until his father found him.

Matthew had smiled with relief, no one had passed for hours, and to be found by his father made him brave enough to keep his father’s gaze even though he had lost the horse and all their money with the saddle bags.

His father’s mouth never moved, but Matthew heard him say as clear as day: _Pathetic. I’d have done better to find him dead_.

Matthew knew he was a disappointment.

***

Matthew always disappointed.

He was a bad son, then he was an orphan.

His father died of a fever, and his mother followed not long after. He tried to live alone, but the villagers would not suffer his solitude, and he was declared Misfit and sent to the work farms, but a lame slave was all but useless to the Council.

He limped. His leg was misshapen. He could not make the long treks to the white-stick groves, and he had not the patience to refine it.

He could hear the chaperons whispering about him, he could hear the other orphans resent him.

Madame Vega was different. She was cold and indifferent, but her smile was warm and Matthew knew she hadn’t lied when she said he was special, and he ignored the heavy darkness that clouded around her every word. After all, she had chose him, alone out of all the other orphans. She thought he was special. She gave him a new tunic, and did not mind his limping gait as he followed her to the carriage that carried them to Obernewtyn.

But he disappointed her too, once they reached their destination. This time, he didn’t mind that he hadn’t lived up to expectations. He knew that if he had been what she had been looking for, the darkness that surrounded her would’ve touched him too, and he knew he wouldn’t survive the experience.

***

Obernewtyn was a revelation. Though the food was worse than the orphanage, and the work was both mind-numblingly boring and achingly exhausting, there was something calming in the air.

He made friends. Cameo, the bright and beautiful girl with the flowing blonde hair. Dameon, who though blind never stumbled, and who’s smile was full of kind secrets.

They lay in their beds, facing each other in the dark. “I hear people’s thoughts.” Matthew confessed quietly and he heard Dameon’s smile in the darkness.

“I feel people’s emotions.”

“Is it hard for you to be near other people?” He asked, after a few moments of silence.

“No.” Dameon said immediately, then rolled over onto his back, staring up at the stone ceiling as though his blank eyes were seeing through the solid rock and were resting instead on the stars above. Matthew watched his friend’s face as emotions flickered across his features, lit up in the darkness through the moonlight streaming through the window. _I think it is beautiful._

“I don’t find it hard either.” Matthew confessed, as he knew he couldn’t lie. His chest tightened and he clenched his fist around his blankets. “Is everyone here like us?”

“Not exactly like us, but we are not alone.”

Dameon continued to stare at the stars and Matthew slept soundly that night, knowing there would never be secrets between them.

***

He settled. The work was hard, but he did it. He learned. He milked cows, he groomed the horses, he helped till the fields and sowed the seeds and when the food had grown, he helped harvest the crop. He relished being useful, because as he learned his menial tasks, he lavished in his mind, stretching it beyond the confines of his own consciousness to reach out to others, and he began to love the rush of being bonded mind to mind with another human being, knowing there were no secrets to be hidden.

He learned about the other Misfits, and what they could do. He learned the name for his talent: farseeking. Dameon was an empath. There were those who could converse with beasts, and those who could persuade others to act contrary to their will—called Coercers. And there were those would could do many at once. He grew into his talent. He learned that he could push at the minds of others and have their secrets laid out before him, like an oldtime book for him to peruse, and he learned that he could protect himself from the same treatment from others. It became a game for him

 _I know about you_ , he whispered into the new girl’s mind when he felt her defences lower and smiled when she reacted with such shock. He knew exactly how she felt, after a lifetime of being isolated by his talent he had loved to discover that he was no longer alone. He loved that he was the person who opened up her mind to this newfound companionship.

He told her about his mother, and in return he snatched a brief thought about her brother from her mind. “ _Elf_ ,” he called her, liking the way the nickname formed on his tongue, relishing that he had bested someone who was clearly stronger than himself. She seemed reluctant to trust him though, and the stray thoughts that he had caught before she was aware of him were snatched away, suddenly hidden by a mind shield as strong and formidable as a stone and mortar wall. Matthew could not help but be impressed. With Dameon’s help he had begun to work on keeping his own thoughts and emotions to himself, but never so efficiently as the dark haired girl before him.

“I’d be pleased if ye’d show me how to shield so well,” He said honestly, as he could do nothing but benefit from the guidance of someone more powerful than he.

“I will teach you.” She promised, and he offered her a genuine smile.

It seemed to work because she smiled back, and Matthew was sure he’d never seen anything quite so beautiful.


	2. Shields

With the departure of Alexi, Madame Vega and Ariel, the cruel white haired boy, the remaining residents of Obernewtyn sought a new order for their community. The new Master of Obernewtyn, always busy, had left the establishment of guilds to those who, unlike him, actually had some power to speak of and wished to foster its growth. Matthew keenly knew the benefit of being able to learn from others—his own abilities had improved dramatically, simply by watching Elspeth as she used her own.

“There should be one guild for each of the recognised talents,” Matthew said to the group gathered around one of the long dining tables. There were perhaps twenty people present and Dameon was beside him. “Empaths, Farseekers, those who can manipulate the thoughts of others, Beast speakers, those who heal, and those with an affinity for the past, and the future.”

“There are some amongst us who possess multiple talents, I think,” said a fair haired boy several years older than Matthew. He thought his name was Ceirwan. “I can read thoughts and coerce people to do my bidding if I so chose.”

“Then perhaps they should be aligned to the guild of their strongest talent,” the dark haired farm hand Domick said.

“I agree.” Dameon nodded, hands pressed neatly down on the table as he stared blankly into the middle-distance. “Though I think that we should stress that the segregation is simply for organisation’s sake, if anyone with a minor talent in any field wished to improve it, they should be able to work with that guild.”

“Of course.” Ceirwan nodded.

“Each guild should be responsible for the maintenance of an aspect of Obernewtyn itself,” Domick said.

“And each should have a leader,” said Roland, an older, greying man from Matthew’s other side. “One who can liaise with the other guilds on matters, and guide the direction of their own guild.”

“This all sounds fantastic,” Rushton said, finally breaking his silence from the head of the table. “Let us leave it at that tonight. Tomorrow if everyone could bring a list, nominating leaders for each of the separate guilds and ideas for distribution of responsibilities, we’ll discuss them then.”

The meeting was over.

***

The healer hall was quiet. Elspeth, still weakened from her encounter with the beforetime machine and Alexi, slept soundly in a bed in the far corner. Someone had braided her hair into a long dark rope down her back, and it snaked along the top of the woollen blankets that covered her.

Even in sleep, she looked troubled. She wouldn’t talk about it, but Matthew suspected she was plagued by dreams, memories of that night, and she had hidden them safely, guarded by her stone and mortar wall.

A sudden clatter resounded through the curtain that separated their recovery wing from the healer hall outside. Matthew jumped, scared at the sudden noise, and quickly looked away from the sleeping Elspeth, back up at the ceiling. He was not here to look at her; he was here for his own recovery. He shifted the blankets around his body, being careful of his leg propped up on pillows at the end of the bed, but he was not gentle enough.

His father’s cold brown eyes flashed in his mind as a sharp stabbing pain seared through his knee and up the thick muscles in his thigh. Resetting his leg was painful, but the memory of how he had injured it first was worse. Matthew groaned through his teeth and forced himself to think of something else, anything other than the pain.

Elspeth stirred from her side of the room. “Matthew,” she said groggily.

“Looks as though we’ll be here together for a little while,” he said with a smile.

Elspeth smiled back sleepily. “Yes.”

***

The division of work was as follows: Elspeth was the guildmistress and she dealt with any cross-guild issues. She oversaw all group projects, and dealt with the major problems that would arise. Her word was final. Her decisions were law.

Ceirwan, as her guilden, made sure her decisions were enacted and did his best to solve problems before they would need to bother the guildmistress, and though it was unofficial, he did his best to look after Elspeth when she forgot to look after herself.

Matthew, and the other farseeker wards did everything else.

It was busy at first, and it took a while for the hierarchy to settle into something that worked, that functioned as a unit and not as a disordered collection of people with something in common. But then again, farseeking in some ways made it easier for the group to work together. Trust was built out of necessity, and companionship came quickly because of it. It was harder to hide things from those who could plunder your mind and reap any and all information at will from it.

No one did that, at least not to each other. Not intentionally.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t get curious, sometimes. He had nothing to hide from these people. Elspeth regularly used his mind as a conduit so that she could stretch her mind further and faster across greater distances, and to do so he had to regress into a completely passive state of mind. It felt a little like daydreaming, except with someone else directing the course of his wanderings. While he was like this, everything was open and he couldn’t hide his secrets from Elspeth if he wanted to.

It wasn’t like that for everyone though. He wandered minds that were partitioned by walls, some wrought iron and solid, others sandy and crumbling. Elspeth’s secrets were locked solidly away, and he knew enough about her experiences with Alexi to know that he didn’t want to discover what was behind the stone and mortar.

Dameon’s walls were more like a grassy thicket maze that prickled to the touch but still looked comforting, much like the man himself. Rushton’s walls were crumbling in places, but were slippery to the touch so Matthew didn’t push through for fear he would fall all the way in and never be able to catch a hold and pull himself out again.

And so he did his best to ignore the walls around him. Brick, stone, wood, bone, all passed him by as he flitted from mind to mind. If he ignored them, maybe they would blend into the surroundings and he could convince himself that the openness that he so willingly shared with his friends was returned with equal eagerness.


	3. Holes

A familiar tendril curled around and into his mind long before he heard the crunching of leaves and branches that heralded the arrival of his relief. _Matthew_ , Ceirwan’s soft voice pulled him back into awareness. _I am coming up._

Matthew pulled himself up straighter, glancing across at the small wild girl sleeping soundly in her cot. Her bright red hair billowed in unruly curls and obscured her face. Even after all these weeks of civilisation, and even in the comfort of a bed with blankets, she still slept curled in around herself, eschewing her fluffy pillow for the crook of her own arm. _Be quiet, please. She is finally asleep_ , he sent back, then closed his eyes and waited.

Dragon was like no one he’d ever met before. She was so bright at times, brimming equally with anger and delight, she was worse than a skittish horse when frightened, and he had to work so hard, so often, to keep his grief and rage at Elspeth’s death from seeping out and affecting her. It was exhausting.

As expected, the rustle of leaves came a minute or so later and Matthew stood up to let Ceirwan through the door. He pulled the door open as quietly as he could so as to minimise the noises that could pull Dragon from her slumber.

 _It is good to see you_ , Matthew said with a tired smile. _I was beginning to feel lonely._

Ceirwan stepped through the crack in the door, feet treading lightly on the ground. He glanced across the darkness towards the cot and Matthew watched as Ceirwan unleashed a small tendril of consciousness out to brush gently against Dragon’s mind.

 _She is dreaming soundly, she will not wake for a while_.

 _You think that now, but you have not seen how quickly she reacts when she is scared._

Ceirwan smiled in the darkness, and sat down as quietly as he could manage just next to Matthew. He twisted to his side and opened a small saddle bag he had slung around his waist. From it he brought out several small packages of food, dried fruit, bread, a bit of salted meat and a flagon of wine, though Matthew could smell from here that the wine had begun to turn.

Ceirwan, as perceptive as Elspeth ever was, noticed the twitch of Matthew’s nose and shrugged. _It is all I could gather from the camp. I would have brought water, but we could not be sure the river isn’t tainted_.

 _It will do_. Matthew popped the cork as he took the flagon from his friend’s hands. There was no sense in complaining. At least it was _something_ to drink, though some of it they would need to save for Dragon to eat tomorrow. He took a quick swig of the bitter liquid then offered it back to Ceirwan.

 _Thank you for the offer, but it is for you_. Ceirwan shook his head.

 _Have you eaten_? Matthew asked. He restoppered the flagon and set it to one side, where it gently rested against his leg.

He began to unwrap the little packages of food, dividing them in half before slowly beginning to nibble on his share.

 _Yes._ Ceirwan said, then closed his eyes and leaned back to rest against the side of the shack. It creaked a little as he put more weight against the slats, but even that eerie noise didn’t break Dragon’s slumber. He was right, Matthew acknowledged as he chewed the slightly stale bread. She was completely out of it.

 _It isn’t so hard to tell. I’m surprised you haven’t picked up on it yet._

Matthew glanced up and away from his half-eaten roll. His shields clearly left something to be desired, not that there was much he could do about it anymore. He was not used to vigilantly keeping others out, and keeping his secrets in. It wasn’t something he could do unconsciously, especially not when he was this weary. He sighed and pushed his walls back into place. _Sorry_.

 _Don’t be._ Ceirwan thought quickly, shifting a little to wrap his cloak more tightly around his shoulders. _I find it quite refreshing, actually, being around someone who doesn’t feel the need to hide anything._

 _I’m not interesting enough to have secrets_. He smiled a little sadly.

Ceirwan shook his head tightly. _I don’t mean it like that, Matthew. Just that it is nice to know that the person you let yourself be is the same as the person you are up here._ He tapped the side of his head with a long, bony finger.

 _I don’t see the point in hiding anything, honesty has always served me better than lies, and… It is easier to avoid disappointing people if they know exactly what to expect from you._

 _I don’t think anyone can rightly call you a disappointment, Matthew._

 _You’d be surprised how often I hear it about myself_.

 _It doesn’t mean you should believe them. You’re doing everyone here so proud._

 _Me? I’m not doing anything. Dragon is the one they should be thanking. I’m just her minder._

 _Stop downplaying your importance here. She is more than a handful at the best of times, and you have her wrapped around your little finger. I do not think Elspeth would’ve done as well as you have._

The name he’d been doing his best to avoid struck a nerve within him and he felt it as keenly as if Ceirwan had struck out with a physical blow. Grief, glowing and potent, reared its ugly head and gripped its fingers around his heart. Dragon shifted in the corner with a moan. Matthew pushed a shield up as quickly as he could, wrapping up his wayward emotions from Dragon’s prying mind.

 _I am sorry. I didn’t not mean to bring her up_. Ceirwan’s voice was a little softer in his mind, as though he were speaking to each other through a wood panelled door. Matthew sighed.

 _I… I just miss her._

 _We all do_.

 _I regret so much. There…_

 _You were in love with her, weren’t you_. Matthew shrugged. It wasn’t much of a secret. He was sure that Elspeth herself had known about his feelings. She may not have been an Empath, but they knew each other well enough before she died that it probably had not been much of a stretch of the imagination.

 _Yes._

 _I do not think we can control love the way we think we should be able to._

 _I don’t regret loving her._ Matthew clarified. _No. I regret not asking her about it. Whatever it was that she protected so carefully from everyone. Surely you saw it too._

He shared a flickering of images, brick, stone, wood, bone walls that cordoned off secrets within the minds of their colleagues. He acknowledged the own walls Ceirwan had built within his own mind, thorny bone thatching that looked poisonous to the touch.

 _These walls we build, I don’t think they protect us as much as we think they do. They just cut us off. They alienate us more from each other than any of our deepest darkest secrets could. Look at Dragon. The walls in her mind are so solid that her past retreated behind them for her own protection._

 _I wish that were the case,_ Ceirwan said slowly, carefully, skirting around his own walls, pretending they were not there so obviously in his mind. _But I think that’s a bit naïve_

Matthew shrugged. Ceirwan did not understand. _Maybe. Maybe not. But I can say with certainty that there is_ nothing _that you could hide from me that would make me think less of you. Nothing. You could’ve killed a man, a child, that could be your big secret. It would not matter. Not to me._

 _Why?_

 _Because I think it’s brave. And I want you to know that I have the same trust in you that you have in me. Obernewtyn, it is a place for forgiveness and rebirth, what does it matter what you did in the past? It is how you behave here and now that matters to me._

Ceirwan said nothing to that, and there was a silence now between them that bordered on uncomfortable. Matthew closed his eyes and rested his head back against the wall, choosing to focus on the steady quiet wheeze of Dragon’s breathing. She really was very beautiful, especially in sleep, where the annoying, curious, moody beast she was when she was awake was replaced by what he assumed was the real Dragon, the one unburdened by memories so traumatic that they had literally changed the landscape of her mind. He suddenly felt very tired.

 _I don’t mean anything by it_. He ventured to Ceirwan when the silence stretched too long for him to tolerate any longer. _I am just tired. And I miss her so much, sometimes I don’t think I can bear it and I take it out on the wrong people._

 _No. You’re right. Secrets don’t do anyone any good._ Ceirwan said finally. _And I_ should _trust you. You’re a good friend._

And then slowly, soft memories began to drift through his mind from behind Ceirwan’s bone-thicket wall, each one as vivid and as fresh as though they were his own that he was reliving. Ceirwan, as a young boy swimming in a crystal clear creek with another boy the same age. Both of them, a little older, clearing farmland. Again, the same boy, _Marcus_ and about seventeen, the memories supplied, smiling at Ceirwan gently, and Matthew felt his own heart flutter at the attention. Marcus and Ceirwan kissing tenderly beneath a giant oak tree, then behind the barn, then in a stall in the stables. Being caught, separated, and shipped off to a Council farm as a misfit, then again to Obernewtyn.

Matthew swallowed as he processed the gift that Ceirwan had bestowed, and the trust allowed between them.

 _Now how could I hate you when your worst secret is love_? He asked finally, meeting Ceirwan’s gaze and holding it steadily.

 _You and I both know that most people would not see it that way._ The older man shrugged.

 _At least you had love in your life. I would not be ashamed of that, no matter what others thought of me for it._

Again, Ceirwan didn’t say anything, but he stretched out his legs carefully and adjusted his saddle bag on his side so it lay flat against the ground. _You should sleep now, while you can. I’ll wake you and Dragon just before first light._

Matthew nodded. _Alright_ , he said, and picked himself carefully up off the floor. He had his own cot set up alongside Dragon’s so that his head would be just next to her own if she were to wake. He made no sudden movements, lest Dragon start awake, but was soon settled in against his own pillow with his dusty blanket covering what it could.

 _Matthew?_ Ceirwan sent uncertainly.

 _Yes?_

 _Thank you. For listening._

 _Thank you for sharing._

And he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
